Humor Me

So I've been sick lately with the flu which has made me miss a few posts because I feel bad enough I don’t even have the energy to write, until now. And by now I mean four days into my recovery. This is not a kind illness. But as I've been bed ridden, I've been asked more than a couple times how I feel. Most often my answer is – I fell like shit! But now I have to ask myself, in which contexts does shit feel and how does it relate? So let me describe this in greater detail for you so you can completely understand the magnitude of how bad this flu is as it relates to a turd.

This is the kind of shit that’s been stuck in your bowels for three days festering like an egg left outside in scorching summer heat for a week until the smell makes you gag.

This is the kind of shit that lingers for an hour at the lip of your sphincter refusing to extricate itself as you try not to breathe its noxious fumes for fear of passing out.

This is the kind of shit that feels like your passing a grapefruit, stretching and tearing every fiber of your being, ripping every sense of decency from you as you desperately try to push it out only to have finally come free with a small ‘plop’ of disappointment.

This is the kind of shit that smells so bad you wish you could extricate yourself from its presence the second it broaches the surface. It’s the kind of shit no one would try to claim.

This is the kind of shit that even men don’t give high-fives for.

This is the kind of shit which garner comments like – what crawled up your ass and died?

This is the kind of shit that immediately ends a first date and any chance for a second.

This is the kind of shit that leaves you in terror of being more than five steps from a bathroom for fear of shitting yourself.

This is the kind of shit the CDC could use as a bio-weapon.

This is the kind of shit that, even after you've flushed it away, you have to remain on the throne despite the stench because you feel another one’s hidden up there somewhere that’s going to ruin your day if you move.

This is the kind of shit that makes you contemplate the necessity of ever eating again.

This is the kind of shit that you can smell through solid walls.

This is the kind of shit that makes you curse building architects for not adding one more stall on your floor just for times like this.

This is the kind of shit that permeates your cloths so it follows you around all day.

This is the kind of shit that makes you clinch your cheeks together and shuffle quickly because you know as soon as it starts there's no stopping it.

This is the kind of shit that only a deep scrub in a shower can remove.

This is the kind of shit that makes you sit back and contemplate shit for no other reason than you’re too dragged down to think of anything else.

I hope that explains just how fetid I feel.